Hidden Mickeys...Gotta Find Them All!

The first time I heard about hidden Mickeys was when I did Beauty and the Beast at Rodgers Memorial Theatre more than a decade ago. A cast member, as we set up for our first show, was arranging books on a bookshelf we used for a set piece. I wondered what he was doing because he wasn't just putting the books on the shelf. He was trying to arrange them a certain way.

I asked what he was doing.

"Creating a Hidden Mickey," he said.

"What's a Hidden Mickey? I asked.

I have so much to learn about the world of Disney.

He went on to explain that in shows, plays, movies, and at Disney theme parks, Mickey Mouse likenesses can be found everywhere. He told me there were books written about it (this is pre-internet-explosion times here...). Now, just search "Hidden Mickey" on the internet and you'll have material to read for years.

Back on July 29th, I snapped a picture of a Hidden Mickey I found on a set piece from the show I'm in. One of the artists working on the set commented on social media asking me if I found two more hidden somewhere in the Lost Boys underground set. I spotted one yesterday and I was shown another today. I think I got them all, but I could be wrong. I couldn't find any on the pirate boat.

We have one more performance until the curtain drops on our show for the final time. I'm typing this post in an empty dressing room, the rest of the cast off eating, socializing, having a good time. Finding a Hidden Mickey is like learning a secret, like being included in a special club. Admittedly, I have not spent a lot of time looking for Hidden Mickeys, but I'm glad I did this time. It made the show just that much better.

"Everyone...I Think It's Time To End The Séance"

I turned to the audience and said, "Everyone, I think it's time to end the Séance." And I escorted the guests from the room for the last time.

At least, for the last time this season. Tonight, another show ended, a show I've been fortunate enough to do for the second year in a row. Me doing the same show year after year hasn't happened since college, and interestingly enough, it was working for the same company.

Tonight, we said goodbye.

Tonight, we hung up the costumes.

Tonight, we hugged and wished everyone the best until we see each other again.

Tonight, an exhausted team gathered for a final picture.

We replaced our props, closed the door, turned off the lights, and closed the door. All that remains are our memories, hearing the laughs, the gasps, and all the screams that came from that small room. After every show I watched as each patron leave to continue their Frightmares experience. Some were shaking, some laughing, some crying, but almost all were smiling, thankful for a good scare and that the experience was over.

Our team left tired, sore, emotionally drained, but happy. That's the way to end a show. Thank you, Frightmares, for allowing me to be part of an amazing and talented group of people, Stephen, Sheradin, Curtis, Taylor, Joey, and everyone else involved in the show. Happy Halloween, everyone!

A Fitting Farewell To An Amazing "Seance" Season...

For the past three years I have worked at Lagoon Amusement Park's Frightmares, their season-ending ode to Halloween. The first two years were fun, but this year was beyond fun, beyond anything I could have imagined. Simply put, I had a blast!

I've done my fair share of shows over the years. Almost all come with bittersweet endings. It's amazing how friendships can form in such a short period of time. You get used to doing the show and seeing each other and when you close the door to the theater you know you'll see everyone soon.

Until the show ends, then all bets are off.

Last night we prepped the stage like we've done each time before. We welcomed in the guests, sat them in their seats, then proceeded to scare the crap out of them. I'd feel bad, except the people have come willingly--even paid extra for the opportunity--to get the crap scared out of them.

I've blogged about the show before, but I've not said much about it. It seems others who have seen the show have kept quiet, too. I had the pleasure of greeting the patrons, getting to know them a little bit. Hardly anyone knew what they were in for--it's one of the reasons the show's been so successful. 

I also got to thank everyone for coming. When they came in before the show I saw smiles, apprehension, nervousness. When they left, their faces told different stories. I saw shock, terror, relief, and in many case, complete and utter awe at what they had just experienced. Sometimes I ran into those on the park who saw the show. We spoke as if we were included in some secret club, knowing things others don't. 

I looked at the crowds before they entered and if they hadn't seen the show, there's just no way they can possibly understand what they're in for. When I told them the show is like nothing they've ever experienced before, I meant it. I was confident is saying it. Because it was true.

Those with whom I performed the show were the absolute best! From the men and women who built the space, to the genius behind its conception, to those of us lucky enough to be chosen to put it on, all created something special, something well done, something memorable. And, with the exception of our first show, we couldn't have asked for better crowds to end this year's run--they were fantastic!

Hopefully, the show will return next September. They'll need a greeter, of course. I may or may not be that person. If not, I'll always remember the past eight weeks because the show was great and we all had a blast doing it.

So Long, "Harvey"...It's Been A Pleasure

Tonight another show has come to a close, another production ended. The chairs are empty, the light board levels all turned to zero. Once again, it's a bittersweet time.

People I know that are not involved in community theater wonder how in the world we can dedicate so much time into something without renumeration. It's a fair question. On the surface it's hard to understand how so many would give up time that could be given to family or friends or hobbies or other interests. And there's not really a good answer, either. I can only say, for those of us who do, the time put into the shows garners rewards you can't get anywhere else.

In the past fourteen months, I've been in five shows with only a two-week break when I wasn't in a show. And I'm also doing a summer performing gig, but since I'm getting paid for that one, I consider it a second job, not necessarily a show. But if you count that as a show, then I will have been on one stage or another from May, 2014 to September, 2015.

I've been a wild west show promoter, a pirate in Neverland, Bob Cratchit, one of the three (not so...) little pigs, a cabbie, and a rainmaker. I've been a principle and part of the ensemble, the star of the show and someone on stage for only a few minutes. I auditioned for three of the six shows; the rest I was asked to help out. It's been quite a ride.

And so tonight we'll all change out of our costumes and place our alter egos on hangers in the dressing rooms. We'll thank those who came and drive home alone in our cars. And we'll never again say our lines or hit our marks. Sure, there's a good chance some of us will do shows together again, or see each other at the theater, but the creation we all made over the past three months now disappears like smoke in the wind.

Harvey's been a pleasure. The cast was supremely talented and I was happy to tag along. For those of you who saw it, I hope you enjoyed it as much as we did bringing it to you. And that large white rabbit, well, he'll show up again in another show at another time. I, for one, can honestly say he'll be missed.

Closing Night...

There's an energy to opening night that's hard to duplicate. No matter how much rehearsing is done, there's always an unknown...will I remember my line, or the steps? And those crazy frantic costume changes. We take a literal leap of faith as the curtain rises and the music begins.

For three months we see each other almost every day. We witness each other at our most vulnerable times and when there's down time, we mostly laugh. After all, we do this because it's fun. 

Then the show begins and the crowds fill the seats. A nervous energy burns in our guts as Act I begins, then concludes. The same thing happens as Act II starts then ends. Curtain calls and then we meet friends, neighbors and strangers in the foyer.

Of course, to everything that begins, an ending follows. Tonight, as we performed our last show, I watched as much of the production as possible, lurking behind the wings so as not to be seen by the paying audience. I watched and felt goosebumps spread across my skin as a friend sang of lost love and the possibility of emotional redemption.

You know you really love a show when the music moves you the last time you hear it as it did when it was new.

Tonight the props have all returned to the table and the costumes are hanging like ghosts in empty dressing rooms. We hug and wish each other well, hoping we'll one day be cast again in another show. We then get in our cars and drive into the lonely darkness of night.

To everyone involved in this show, it was an absolute pleasure to be with you. Being asked to join was a honor, one I hope I always showed at rehearsals and on stage. This one wore me out, but in the best way possible. Godspeed you noble friends, you beautiful freaks! Until we once again meet on the place we call home.